


The Grange

by Jeannie Peneaux (JeanniePeneaux)



Series: Tactful [6]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanniePeneaux/pseuds/Jeannie%20Peneaux
Summary: The newly married Catherine Osmond-Price meets her husband's parents for the first time.





	The Grange

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to Merwy, who has so kindly beta'd this for me and to whom I am indebted for the title. 
> 
> A few people asked for Mrs. Osmond-Price's story so here it is. I think I must be approaching the end of the Tactful universe now, I just want to sort Charlotte out and then surely I must be done?! 
> 
> I would also like to point out that Osmond-Price was a very fun sounding name originally but I would happily never have to type it out ever again! :)

 

The newly-wed Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Osmond-Price arrived in Norfolk after nearly five days of travel. The bride, who was decidedly petite, was assisted down from the carriage and looked with great interest at her new home. Her husband, pleased to have reached Fletchley Grange whilst the light was still good, looked with pride upon his ancestral home and asked Kitty if it was not the prettiest great house she had ever laid eyes on.  
  
His new wife, entirely willing to oblige him, surveyed the sprawling building. To the left of the drive was a wide, meandering river, not so close so as to cause any difficulty with flooding, Thomas had assured her, but providing an interesting view and Kitty longed to go with her husband on a promised boating expedition as soon as might be arranged.  
  
“Thomas, it is all that you said it is. May we...might you take me on a boat--oh not _tonight_ , but perhaps...tomorrow?”  
  
The Grange itself was a handsome building, built of a light stone and with the sunlight shining on it as it was now, was entirely charming. It was not Pemberley, nothing was, but to Kitty, who had been rather intimidated by Elizabeth’s enormous responsibility, she found that she infinitely preferred this. Larger by far than Longbourn, but not so big as to feel empty, it was on first impressions exactly what she would have wished for herself.

  
“H-here are m-my M-mother and F-Father, K-Kitty.”  
  
Sure enough, the large oak door to the house had swung open and a plump, red-haired woman burst through it, followed at a more leisurely pace by a man who had a very strong resemblance to Thomas, albeit  with a little more grey at the temples and a good deal more weight about his face.  
  
The elder Mrs. Osmond-Price was a comfortable looking woman, a little taller than Kitty and more heavily built. She was dressed simply in a light printed muslin with her red curls largely covered by a little cap pinned neatly over the crown. Her round face beamed at the two of them and she came forward with her arms stretched out.  
  
“Ehh now, let me see the daughter my Tommy has brought me home? Well, aren’t you darling, then? You’ll be worn to the bone by that journey-- Derbyshire to Norfolk! You’ll have a nice hot supper and then bed. We shall have you right as rain in the morning.” Kitty, who had been preparing to drop a tired but respectful curtsey to her new Mama-in-law, was stopped from doing so by the lady wrapping her arms about her and planting a kiss on her cheek. Catherine looked to Thomas who was smiling fondly at the kindly whirlwind who had by now moved on to kiss him.  
  
“W-we w-were an extra d-day on the r-roads, M-Mama...K-Kitty d-does n-not c-care for excessive speed.”  
  
Mrs. Osmond-Price laughed. It was a deep laugh for a female, but mellow and very pleasing to the ear. “Well, that is something good then! I have been telling this boy of mine for many a year that he must not travel at such reckless speeds about the country, else he will end his days breaking his Mama’s heart.”  
  
Mr. Osmond-Price had by now come near and took Kitty’s hand. He bowed over it with a gentle courtesy.  
  
“You are very welcome, my dear. Your new Mama has been looking out for your carriage since daybreak. Had we more hills in Norfolk I am sure she would have sought higher ground so as to get a better view of the roads.”

He had a pleasant, slow voice. It was deep and a little gravelly. Mr. Osmond-Price spoke as though there were nothing in the world to hurry him along, Kitty smiled at him and pressed his hand as she curtseyed. After so warm a welcome, she forgot a little of her shyness and natural nervousness. These people loved Thomas and so appeared entirely willing to love her too--it was a pleasant thing.  
  
“Thank you, sir. I am glad to be out of the carriage, for all that it was very comfortable, I have not ever travelled _half_ so much as I have this past year.”

“Well come in, my loves...how pleasant it is for me to now have a son _and_ a daughter. I love the Grange in any season, but I like it best of all when it is full of people. I shall go out tomorrow, and make sure that all the families about will come for a little party to meet you--won’t that be merry? Tommy, my lad, do see your wife in. Kitty, Tommy will show you to your rooms, there is a lovely view of the river, and you may change and come down for a little food.”  
  
The young couple entered and Kitty found that all she saw of the principle rooms of the house as she passed them on her way up the stairs was very pleasing, if a little less modern than Longbourn. Her rooms were charming. The furniture, although heavier than was fashionable in London, was of good sturdy quality and very comfortable. Thomas held her hand down the stairs and paused to introduce her to a passing maid.  
  
“This i-is m-my w-wife, G-Gibson, she w-will like a b-bath d-drawn up this evening, I s-should t-think. G-Gibson w-will s-see to it, K-Kitty.”  
  
Kitty marvelled at how informal the Grange was. There was little possibility of her parents speaking so in front of a servant. She did not necessarily see this as wrong, merely different. She suspected that if there were indeed fewer rules to remember in her new home she would be less fearful of misstepping and so feel comfortable much sooner.  
  
Mrs. Osmond-Price was pouring hot tea from a large pot when the pair entered the sitting room.  She looked up and smiled warmly when she saw them.  
  
“I must learn how you like your tea, Kitty. Oh, you will not _mind_ if I call you Kitty, shall you? Thomas called you so in his letters and so I feel as though you cannot be anything else. How dreadful it would be if we were to live in the same house and be always addressing each other as though we were strangers rather than kin.”  
  
Kitty, entirely eager to please and be pleased sipped the hot tea that had been handed to her.  
  
“Yes, that is just right, Mrs. Osm-- Oh! Shall I call you ‘Mama’?”  
  
She was not at all the sort of girl to ordinarily suggest such a forward thing, but there was something so kindly about Thomas’ mother that she found her usual shyness did not hamper her as it usually did. Thomas smiled at her as his Mother replied warmly, “Indeed you shall, my lass, indeed you shall. I can quite see that we shall get on splendidly! You must call Mr. Osmond-Price ‘Papa’ too. He might look like a stern fellow behind that bushy beard of his, but you mustn't think he is--I’d not have married him if he was.”  
  
Kitty looked at Mr. Osmond-Price, who was sat in a large wing chair beside the fire and observed that he did not look in the least bit offended by his wife’s words, rather he nodded in agreement, a slow merriment lurking in his eyes. 

“Aye, that certainly is true, Kitty. I practically had to beg her to wed me, and me the catch of the county.”

Thomas, a very similar gleam of amusement in his eyes, softly spoke, “M-Mama w-was a t-tavern m-maid before P-Papa w-wed her.”

Kitty blinked, extremely shocked and entirely unsure of what to say. She had realised that her new Mama did not speak with the same air of gentility as her _own_ Mama but she _had_ supposed her to be a gentlewoman.  
  
“Oh!” she said, after a fortifying sip of tea, “is that where you met?”  
  
“T-tell the s-story, P-Papa,” urged his son.  
  
“It’s more your mother’s tale than mine, lad,” protested Mr. Osmond-Price.  
  
The lady shook her head, “Aye, but I’ll readily own that _you_ are the tale teller of the two of us. You’d better tell it, my dear, you know our Tommy won’t be content until you do.”  
  
Mr. Osmond-Price stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Well then Martha, you’ll hand me my pipe then, please. You’ll not mind, Kitty? It aids the concentration, this old pipe of mine.”  
  
Kitty, intrigued, shook her head and replied that she did not mind in the least.  
  
The man in the chair, leant forward in his chair to receive his clay pipe from his wife and settled himself back again comfortably after a nod of thanks to his lady. A look was exchanged between them, fond and affectionate, as though they would both of them enjoy a brief visit to the past, even at their age.  
  
Mr. Osmond-Price looked at the expectant faces turned toward him and barked a  laugh, “Oh very well! You all remind me of my hounds a-beggin' for table scraps!”

He lipped at his pipe once or twice and patted his pockets, searching for a flat tin box kept in one of them, he extracted it and opened it up with great, unhurried care before he began his tale.

“Martha here was a tavern keeper's daughter, not one of these dreadful flea infested places, of course, but a respectable establishment. The tavern keeper, Robert O’Brien, had come over from Ireland with a good amount of knowledge in how to brew a good ale and how to keep his customers cheerful. He bought a fine plot of land and built a pretty inn on it--nothing overly fancy but neat and pretty enough in its own way. There was no tavern in that particular Norfolk village at the time, but it was not far off from a river and as a result the custom and the town both grew. He wed a Norfolk lass, which made him very popular with the locals, you understand, and soon Mrs. O’Brien brought Martha into the world. She was the only wee one they were blessed with but how they were blessed! She had a knack for improvisation,  still does in fact, which was invaluable in such an occupation as she grew up in.  
  
But I stray from my tale, you must nudge me, darling, if I meander too often. If you would just wait a moment while I refill my pipe I will gather my thoughts and get back on track. There now, look at you all staring at me as though you had none of you heard this before! Our Kitty has some more excuse than my Martha or Tommy, I think.”

His fingers, deft with long practice, refilled the old pipe and he sat back, comfortably in his chair.  
  
“Well now, it was a dark night-- a new moon in fact and so cloudy that not even the stars could shed any light on the road. The tavern was a blaze of warm light and a welcome sight to me. Your mother, with her pretty red curls, was a sight more welcome than anything. Ha! I might as well have handed my purse over there and then, had I not, Mrs. Osmond-Price? For she wrangled her way into it soon enough, with the offer of a fine hearty meal and a pint of her father’s best brew.  
  
I was travelling home to the Grange, having had business in Cambridge and I had been kept far later than I intended but I put my business out of my head and settled down to enjoy an excellent meal. Martha had made the steak pie herself and ‘twas a good one...you’ll be wanting to sample some of that, Little Kitty, the next time your mother-in-law decides I deserve a treat. Aye, she laughs at me, daughter, but I promise you that she has a kind heart and so will not make you wait too long.”  
  
Kitty looked to her husband, he winked at her and drew her closer to him on the seat beside him. She leant against him a little and smiled happily. It was delightful to be sat thus.  
  
“I don’t know how it was that a band of thieves had known I had a bag of money, perhaps they accurately guessed the weight of it when I brought it out to pay your Mama, but at any rate, they made a target of me that night. I had paid no mind to them at all, Martha being such a comely lass, but I was later on told that they had sat in the corner furthest from the fire, drinking steadily and weighing up the room. Martha was serving them and, after she had wiped her tears of farewell away once I had left--yes, my dear, I do jest, you hadn’t even registered the weary old man passing through, had you?--she overheard them speaking of me and gathered their plan was to attack me on the road.  
  
She’s a kind-hearted thing, always was, I think, and it didn’t trouble her that I was nothing to her. As far as Martha was concerned, right was right and wrong was wrong...and she’d not stand idly by while a man was robbed of his money and left for dead on the blackest night that ever there was. She gathered two of her father’s guns, a quantity of rope concealed within a thick heavy cloak and made her way to the river. Ingenious thinking that, I always think it, every time I retell it--the road would’ve been to slow, but a boat, well now, the river below the inn wended its way to a bridge--by road it was a couple of miles but the river made it half the distance. She had heard the thieves talk of overtaking me at this bridge, knowing that I must pass over it on my way home, and so she set herself up there first.  
  
She arrived at the bridge, mooring her boat out of sight beneath it, just as one of the gang had pulled me from my horse and had given me a clout over the head with a cudgel...an unpleasant feeling, I promise you. She, quite enraged at the injustice, made aim with a gun and caught the fellow nicely in the neck...I still feel relieved the wretches carried sufficient flaming torches to provide her with enough light for accuracy.”  
  
Martha, as lost as the rest of them in the tale, let out a soft snort. “Never held with kicking a man when he’s down, still don’t. I was in such a rage to see that villainy that I had fired before I even knew I meant to. Makes my very hands shake to think of it, looking back.”  
  
“Well now, there was such a furore! First, it was assumed that I, although unconscious, had made the shot, then accusations of treachery were bandied about and then eventually they assumed that the woods were haunted. Your Mama, I can tell you, took great advantage of this! Aided by the echo of the stone bridge, she made a low, eerie sounding laugh. I woke up to the hearing of it and I may tell you that the very hairs on my neck stood up in fear.  
  
That dreadful, _echoing_ sound must have frightened them properly, for they left me where I was and mounted their horses as fast as they could get on them! I do not know if guilty consciences have much to do with it, but I have always thought that they must have been a superstitious bunch of men, to be so affected.”  
  
“Ha!” Laughed Mrs. Osmond-Price, “you were white as a sheet yourself, sir--don’t be pretending that you weren’t _vastly_ relieved to see me when I crawled out from beneath that bridge!”  
  
Her husband looked a little abashed but ignored her good-natured taunt and continued with his tale, “ _Regardless_ , your Mama had been hard at work with her rope, as they were arguing about the shot and quietly tied a rope low across the road between two trees. As they all went off as fast as they could, they fell foul of it and all but one of them came off their steeds. The one left mounted did not turn to look back but the others that lived stayed nice and unconscious while my Martha tied them to trees ready for the law to find them on the morrow. She even remembered to relieve them of the gold that they owed her Papa, not having paid their shot before they left to set upon me. An ingenious woman, I tell you.

I fainted again after that and she loaded me up on my horse. H _ow_ I will never know for I was not a small fellow, even then, and then led us back to the tavern. She was hailed as a heroine by the other patrons, wiping out a plaguey gang of thieves in one night as she did. You may imagine, my dear, how I felt when I saw the darling girl in the morning and heard the whole story.  
  
“Martha O’Brien,” I said, “you have done me such a splendid service in guarding my life tonight that I will not set foot out of this door until you promise me that you will always do so.”  
  
Bless the lass, she did not know what I was about and laughing merrily at me, told me that should I run into any more trouble to just send her a message and she’d come right away. It took her some persuading to realise that I wanted her for a wife and even _then_ she thought my blow to the head was responsible.  
  
Eventually, she realised I was in earnest and feeling some responsibility for my life having saved it, she gave me her promise. Best decision I have ever made, for all it caused an uproar. No one can resist my Martha for long and she soon won ‘em all over...didn’t you lass?” 

By the time her father-in-law had drawn his tale to a close, Kitty was entirely enwrapped in the story. She sat for a moment, in silent appreciation for the story before giving a little sigh and whispering, “Oh, it sounds so...so _romantic_ ! I...Mama, it sounds as though you were terribly, _terribly_ brave.”  
  
Mrs. Osmond-Price blushed a little and shook her head, “I’d not change it for the world, for all I thought that dear man over there was having fun at my expense when he asked me...I’ve not regretted it, not for a single day.”  
  
“Y-you s-see w-what I mean, K-Kitty, y-you rescued me every bit as m-much as M-Mama did P-Papa.  I d-didn’t write of it S-sir, b-but I have b-brought another husband rescuing h-heroine t-to the G-Grange.”  
  
Mrs. Osmond-Price looked at the diminutive girl whose head was fondly resting on her son’s shoulder in some surprise, “A husband rescuing heroine? What on earth do you mean, Tommy?”  
  
“Oh, m-merely that K-Kitty s-saved me in London. K-Kitty, y-you tell it...n-no one w-wants to w-wait for _m-me_ t-to s-spit it out.”  
  
“Oh Thomas,” said Kitty, sincerely, “I will if you want me to but...why do _you_ not tell it, I for one am quite content to listen to you, even if takes the rest of the evening.”  
  
Martha Osmond-Price was not a woman who often found herself near tears, but as she heard her new daughter in law speak so to her boy, her eyes grew damp and her voice was dry and hoarse when she added her agreement. She met her husband’s eyes and knew from the sheen on them that he was thinking precisely the same as her. Their boy, their darling boy who had forever struggled to speak had made a wise choice of bride. Tommy had thought all his life that he would need a bride who could speak for him when he could not, but in Kitty he had found something infinitely better, she was a woman who would listen to him. 

The fire crackled in the hearth as the family took yet another cup of tea. Mr. Osmond-Price’s pipe scented the air and every now and then, as Thomas spoke in halting words, his Mama would pass around a plate of biscuits. Outside darkness fell and Kitty rose to light the lamps, feeling entirely comfortable doing so without being invited to. Outside the river flowed and occasionally a tawny owl hooted from its treetop nest. The river would be explored tomorrow, a lazy day might be spent floating along the water, perhaps the newlyweds would take a picnic to enjoy on a grassy bank in the sunshine.  
  
When Thomas finished his tale his Mama was rosy with laughter, “I can send you off tomorrow on a boat without a worry that any mischief will come to you, Tommy. Little Kitty will see you safe!”  
  
And so she did.  
  



End file.
